Beat Girl

So I’m sitting there
Being me,
And she’s giving me this look,
With her cold eyes,
And I bet she’s thinking
Look at this Motherfucker.
Acting all mad and thinking in his weird ways,
Thinking he’s beat.
As if he knows anything about that,
Or even if it means anything.
He’s lost in his own damn thoughts
And it’s shit.

And I’ll bet she thinks I’m totally crazy.
But no,
I’m not crazy
No Sir.
Because to be crazy you have to get enough sleep,
You have to have nice long nights,
Where you can have nice long dreams.
Because then when you wake up
You get all sad.
And spend the whole day being sad,
Until you go to sleep again,
And have another nice dream,
And then you wake up,
And it starts all over again until you’re sick of your own damn reality.
Then you’re crazy.

But not me, no.
I have to go to sleep late,
And wake up early,
Because I guess that’s how I do things.
I have to get up and do this beat stuff,
And write this poem,
Because I have to find meaning,
And that’s called,
Sanity.

But she doesn't know that.
And it doesn't even matter
Because her eyes,
Are now my eyes.
And she knows I’m thinking it.

Comments

swearing in poetry lacks all poetic quality and disgraces the genre , you would have been more effective if it was in prose, please desist more from such attempts with more optimism to reaching the utmost audience as possible and swearing reduces and censures how far the great piece of your poetry might go, yours faithfully

I understand your view. I too sometimes dislike the use of profanity used in a work such as a poem, unless it is done with taste or in a way which makes sense. Perhaps I should have left somewhat of a small explanation in my last words, I apologize. I'd like to provide that explanation now.

I myself am heavily influenced by the style of the beat generation, particularly by Kerouac. And I came up with the idea of this poem after I finished watching the film adaptation of Big Sur by Kerouac ( I have also read the original work). My inspiration was gained from how Kerouac's thoughts flowed and the observations he made during the course of the work. It's really tough for me to explain. I would highly recommend watching some clips of the film, to understand his mind.

My work here was supposed to somewhat mimic his style, but applied to my own observation and experience.

As far as the profanity goes, I actually felt like it belonged here. When taking the style I am writing in into consideration it seems normal to me. Done with taste in respect to point at hand. That said, I don't feel that it degrades the work, I just see it as word choice. I'm not the only poet to swear and I've seen it done in a lot of different works. It brings a somewhat raw element of emotion into the mix. The best way I can explain it is that I am not sugar coating what went through my head.

I also agree that this work could have worked in prose. I knew that before I even wrote the poem. But I chose to write it as a poem because then I could control the structure of the words. It all has to do with the flow of the ideas.

Also your comment on more optimism. True, I don't really see this piece as really optimistic, but then again I don't see it as extremely vulgar or pessimistic as well. And I don't necessarily think that poetry needs to be any of those things or focus on invoking any certain ideal. If poetry was set to just be a bunch of optimistic pieces then what's the point of it? I don't see any room in that ideal for exploring different emotions and being unique or creative.

The poem is what it is. And this is what came out this time. I hope my explanation provides some clarity. Thank you again for reading,

i like the poem...swearing isnt at something or at anyone...
the thought delve is in the transition
that cue...the eyes of course..female as muse
etc etc...

like walking the moebuis strip
just catch view now and then

having lived with many many women
over the years....they usually wait until
im working on something..
writing..homework then....and plop
their books..their lunch...chewing
gum...wild about some story of the
day time their life...
before i got a chance to come up
with rhetoric...

holler up from downstairs....get to work..
get down here and mop the floor..
the laundry basket is too heavy in
the basement...i load it right up
for all different floor stops and
the two ladies.....etc...

sometimes they think about us
a lot.....more what they think of
them....the intellect....oh thats all
inner workings....they just wanna
know the time jack...
wanna see the hands
hear it working..tick tick tick

this is a good poem
for this genre
i enjoyed it...
and i swear way to f*****g much

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.